On the Coat Tales of a Gambler
I held a bunch of jobs in my early years, some only lasted three or four months, some lasted for a few years. I told you about my soda jerk/car hop job. I worked as a lifeguard, construction worker, a grocer, I did a tour of duty, four years, with the USMC. I sold hardware for Sears. I was a fireman. I sold insurance and I did outside sales. Maybe there were two or three other jobs that I forgot. I probably had thirty different part-time occupations before the age of twenty-nine and I had a wife and kids.
I was a young twenty-nine when I went into the U.S. Navy. Often, I thanked God for sending the navy to me. I was offered the same rank, after my discharge from the Marines. The U.S.M.C. only offered me PFC, (Private First Class) ranking to get me back. Had it not been for the Navy, I may still be switching jobs as often as I was doing back in those days. I do not think that it was luck, but the mighty hand of God that placed me where he did. I have to say that I was unhappy most of the time between the USMC and USN years. I could never find a job that I liked much. Oh, I liked most of the jobs that I took, but I usually lost interest after maybe two or three months. Then, it seemed like boredom would set in and I’d get antsy and moved on.
In the navy, I was on staff at COM 8 headquarters, stationed in New Orleans. I was a recruiting assistant / inspector / trainer. Man, it was the best job I ever had in my life. Little did I realize that the navy would be the last job I would ever have where I was working for someone else. My job required me to travel a lot. I had to cover six states in my territory. Often, I would have to travel alone as the direct representative of the 08 RADM. I was good at my job. Only once did someone call my big boss, a CDR 05, with a complaint about me. The 05 was from San Antonio. My boss called me to his office one day. After hearing my side of the story, he told me to forget it and not to worry about the complaint.
Anyway, in June “79” we decided to have a recruiting training conference in Amarillo, Texas, at the Holiday Inn. The captain said we could drive our own cars and take our families. That was the first time for us to be able to take the family. I still remember that trip. We were able to make a deal with the hotel so that our rooms would not cost more if our families were with us. My boss approved the proposal and the families got to make the trip.
The reason I remember this trip so well is because I got to see Amarillo Slim playing in a Texas Hold’em tournament. It was just the beginning of what now has become the most popular form of gambling. Turns out there were lots of games going on in Amarillo and the law was greased, similar to the way it was in the South. I guess politics is politics and money is money. I nosed around and I made a few connections with guys who knew about the illegal games. While I was out there, on that navy trip, I even got to play in a few of those games.
After I got back to New Orleans, I still had an address for Scarpone in Montgomery. I decided to mail him a letter and tell him about seeing Amarillo Slim in the poker tournament. I added my phone number to the note. However, there was no reply.
Two or three months went by before I had another assignment in Amarillo. I used to frequent a place called the Pig-out Bar-B-Q. The owner of the restaurant knew about the poker games. His nickname was “Smoky,” because he always smelled of smoke from the smoker out behind his restaurant.
Smoky gave me the directions to a poker game. He said I would need to give his name when I got there, which I understood to be authorization. I did not have to drive too far. The game was held upstairs in a big old barn just outside of town. It reminded me of the cockfight that I had attended with Scarpone. The stairs led up to the loft with three Texas Hold’em style poker tables. One game was already in progress. A cowboy greeted me, and I gave him Smoky’s name. He welcomed me and said to make myself at home until other players showed up.
It was a different set up than in my days back home, lemonade and coffee were the only beverages. If you wanted anything stronger, it was up to you to bring it. It helped me to appreciate that I got away from all that illegal gambling. Looking back on those days, I was so close to the edge at times… by the grace of God I never got into a scrape.
The game started up with the other players looking like extras from a John Wayne movie. I felt out of place wearing street clothes. Meanwhile, some of the cowboys made no bones about hanging a 44 on their hip. I’m telling you; the Wild West was still alive and wild in West Texas.
The cowboys’ looks were deceiving. These country boys, with worn, dusty boots, were all pros and not the “Yee-haw hicks” that I had imagined when Smokey told me about a poker game. The cowboys were well acquainted and familiar with each other’s play. I was the odd man out. Scarpone used to say, “In every game there is a patsy. Find the patsy and you’ll find the money. If you can’t find the patsy, then you’re the patsy.”
As it turned out, I didn’t have to be a patsy. The table stakes were out of my league, so I politely excused myself from the game. I was told that a one-two game would be playing after five o’clock, so I could hang out watching until then. The game got started and in no time the other players put the “squeeze” on one of the players. (It could easily have been me.) A “squeeze” was an old trick Scarpone knew well. Other players gang up on the “odd man” and play in such a way as to squeeze him out of the game. It does not matter who wins the money. The goal is to get the money away from the newcomer and into the hands of the good o’l boys. It is an unspoken conspiracy, known by members of a game that worked together, take the mark for all that he’s got. The goal is to chase the mark out of the game, leaving all his money behind. Then, once they take him down, it is up to those players still playing, to get what they can. I guess you could say it was like a pack of wolves taking down a deer. Afterwards, the dominant wolf would get the best of the meat and so on.
After witnessing how the cowboys played, I decided to not hang around for the lower limit game. I hung out long enough to make it seem like I was interested, but eventually I slipped out without being noticed. I figured the cowboys knew that I was not going to stick around for long.
Those navy trips to Amarillo laid the groundwork for me and I eventually moved there. My move out west is what got me closer to Las Vegas, and it would eventually lead to my times of playing blackjack for a living there. Of course, by then, I had messed up the family life totally, and I would be out on my own.
On the Coat Tales of a Gambler continues in Episode 11 – Ice not so nice.